This Was Prim
by Catching Fireflies
Summary: RE-WRITE OF "THIS IS PRIM". Even while Katniss is back home in District Twelve, there are people in the Capitol who support the rebellion. People who, very literally, live for the rebellion. But the worst extreme is a a Capitol rebel who goes by "Prim". Could Katniss have saved her life by opening the letters on her mantle? Short story based off the song "Stan" by Eminem.


**Hey! And to my fellow Americans, happy early Labor Day. :) Well, for all of you familiar with the original version, I owe you an apology. My writing wasn't exactly good in that. It felt so short, you know? So I'm doing a rewrite. Don't worry, I've still got the original story up. Hopefully though, this is better.**

**This is based off the amazing song "Stan" by Eminem. I recommend looking it up on YouTube, or looking up the lyrics, if you want to understand this story a little better. The song is about an obsessed fan who sends fan mail to Eminem and does something... um, drastic, when he doesn't write back. So this is a Hunger Games style "Stan".**

**Set during Mockingjay, when Katniss arrives back in District Twelve, as mail piles up on her mantle. This is a short little prologue to the actual story.**

**_-This Is Prim-_**

On a dark morning in the Capitol, rain was pouring down. Splashing on the streets, running off rooftops, soaking the few extravagantly dressed people as they made their way home to get inside, to warm up again with a generous mug filled with a warm drink. The tall buildings were monsters, ready to kill all of Panem, and the trees were hulking shadows, aiding their masters.

But Prim Aspen couldn't see any of it. Wrapped in a warm blanket, dressed in comfy black clothes, she stared out the window, with one palm pressed to her window. Her hand was numb with cold, but she kept staring. But through the rain and condensation on her window, she couldn't see outside. Only a blur of gray, only a dreary, desolate wasteland. Or, anyway, that's how it seemed to her. Dark. Cold. She shivered, wrapping her blanket closer around her shoulders, rubbing her cold hand on her pants.

The Capitol was a cheerful place. Of course it was. Ever since Prim was a little girl, she'd loved the beautiful cotton-candy hues of the clothes, the neons of the buildings. She sighed, sitting down in her armchair, curled up for warmth. Thinking back to those innocent days was painful. Because then came the day that she'd discovered that the yearly festivities -the Hunger Games, which to the six-year-old Prim were nothing but parties and more yummy candies- were killing twenty-three kids from the districts.

"But, Mommy, it's mean!" Prim had whined, stamping her tiny foot on the floor and crossing her arms, wearing a stubborn pout. "Why do we kill the kids and be happy about it?"

Prim remembered her mother's stern response. "It's how they repent for the things that they have done many years ago, young lady," she had said, giving her daughter a cold look. But Prim still hadn't understood. It made no sense at all to her young mind.

"But, _Mommy..._ if it was many years ago, it wasn't their fault!" she'd shouted, and the dinner table had fallen silent. Her father, who had been cutting the turkey. Her mother, who has gripping her fork so hard that her knuckles turned white from lack of blood. Even her baby sister, who stopped eating her soft food to stare at Prim with wide, chocolate-y brown eyes.

That night, she had been sent to bed without dinner- an unimaginably awful punishment to the little girl. Prim still remembered it. And she remember how, when she had turned eighteen, she had left her family for good and never looked back. Changed her name from Addison to Prim, in honor of Katniss Everdeen's little sister. Because, even to that day, Prim knew that the Capitol was wrong to have the Hunger Games and rule over the districts. Wrong wrong wrong.

Actually, that was only a couple years ago. And then -Prim's heart beat faster, and a grin came to her face- Katniss Everdeen had won the 74th annual Hunger Games, just a few days before she could legally change her name, and before she moved out. That was an important thing for her, more important than anything in the whole word to her. Katniss Everdeen, winning the Hunger Games. Oh, yeah, and Peeta. To be honest, Prim didn't care much for Peeta Mellark. He was too nice, too perfect. Too clueless. But _Katniss_, on the other hand, was amazing. She had started a rebellion, one that had killed President Snow. This _did_ leave Prim unemployed and alone and hated by the districts, but that didn't stop her.

In a sudden fit of frustration, Prim got to her feet, furiously letting the shades go down on her windows. She couldn't stand looking out the window and seeing... _nothing._ She was insanely bored. Insanely insane. _What the hell is wrong with me? _she thought in despair, feeling close to tears. _There's something wrong with me, right? Isn't there? Because I haven't felt right for years._

Stumbling down the hall, Prim felt a sudden need to look in a mirror. To see her distorted, changed appearance. Locking herself in the bathroom, turning the light on and staring into the mirror, she was almost transfixed by the reflection that stared back at her. Originally, she'd been a little wisp of a girl, with a pair of blonde pigtails and pale gray eyes. But now she was older. And she wanted to be Katniss Everdeen, and this was the next best thing.

Her hair was dyed black. Like Katniss's hair. Her pale eyes had been surgically altered into a darker shade of gray. The exact shade of Katniss's eyes. She couldn't do much about her deathly-pale skin except get it tanned a bit. In imitation of Katniss's olive skin. And she wore a black dress in mourning for the death of Katniss's little sister, Prim. _Prim._ A bitter laugh forced its way out of her. It was strange. Prim was dead... but she was alive. Alive in Primrose Aspen, the Capitol rebel.

Prim. Her name was Prim. Now it was all different. This was Addison Aspen, but with Katniss's hair. Katniss's skin. Katniss's eyes. Dark clothes for Katniss's sister. And the same name as Katniss's sister.

Everything about Prim was different -even her heart.

Prim went out of the bathroom, a little shaky on her feet from the realization, and sat down on the foot of her bed. Staring at the wall. It was plastered with Katniss Everdeen memorabilia. So much that the green paint -ha, Katniss's favorite color was green- was almost completely hidden. Pictures from the newspapers of the Capitol. Of Katniss in the 74th Games and the 75th. Of the Victory Tour, of the pre-Games happenings. Always Katniss. Pictures that the rebels took for their Airtime Assault propos. Pictures of Katniss's mockingjay pin.

Prim grinned up at the wall, running her fingers over a picture of Katniss almost lovingly. She wished a thousand, a million times that she was as fierce and brave as Katniss. But she never could be. And she'd never _really _know Katniss... would she?

The idea came to her like a flash of lightning, brighter than the lightning outside. Louder than the thunder booming. She could write to Katniss! Her Victor's Village address was well known, and besides, she was back in District Twelve, not that awful District Thirteen. Prim was grinning her face off now, so hard that her cheeks hurt. She jumped to her feet, rummaging through her desk to find the objects she needed. A pen. A sheet of lined paper. A stamp. An envelope. She addressed the envelope quickly, slapping on the stamp.

"Yes!" Prim cheered quietly to herself.

And she put the pen to the paper and began to write out her letter, adrenaline coursing through her veins...

_Dear Katniss,_

_Hello! I've wanted to write to you ever since you won the Games. You have no idea how much I admire you._

_Anyway, enough of that. How are you in District Twelve? I'm really sorry about your sister. We shared the same name. See, when I turned eighteen, I changed my name to Prim in honor of her- and you, of course._

_Anyways, you wouldn't believe what a fan I am of you, like I said. I have been ever since you pulled out the nightlock in your first Games. It was the perfect start to the rebellion, and I supported it all the way. Ever since I was little, I've thought that the Capitol was being cruel for holding the Hunger Games. You stood up to them so well, and I think you're very brave. You really never will know how much you mean to me- I've got at least ten tattoos of your mockingjay pin._

_I have my address, cell phone number, and home phone number here, if you want to talk._

_Goodbye and good luck, and I hope things get better for you._

_This is Prim._

**So, I hope this was better than the original version. And I hope you keep reading, to all of you who haven't read the first version! :)**


End file.
